This is a sequel to my Unexpected Threesome series.
During the course of a cruise in the Pacific on his yacht, Ned collected a number of young lovers; many at the same time. Some reluctantly sought out partners their own age when the trip was over. But Amy, then 30 and Liddy, then 55 elected to stay with him in a polygamous relationship.
Now, 5 years on, the world is dealing with a Wuhan Virus crisis.
***
When the first rumblings of the virus hit, Liddy was back in New York for the birth of her first grandchild. She had planned to be there for three months. Little did we know as we said goodbye to her it would be much, much longer than that.
At first, Amy had revelled in having me to herself. We were still waiting for the so called effervesce of Amy's sexual appetite to burn itself out. If her insatiability was supposed to be due to enjoying the benefit of a truly loving relationship for the first time since escaping the violence, abuse and rape imposed upon her for a decade by her former partner back in London, it was taking a long time to wear off.
True, we had for a while got down to an average of sex only once a day; less than the twice a day habit that had been sustained for quite a while after we'd first settled down back in Australia with Liddy making the threesome. There were even days she went without; although averaged out by those where she still called for my services twice in the same day.
I wasn't complaining. It was a treat having a loving partner who was little more than half my age and she was beautiful in mind and as a companion as much as in body.
She was certainly beautiful in body. Five years had done nothing to change the perfection of her countenance or her body. The latter was slim, strong but feminine with flowing auburn sun bleached hair that cascaded half way down her back and, reflecting her mixed heritage with Mediterranean origins and growing up in sunless England, her skin was of a glowing, flawless light olive complexion.
She was shapely in that stunning athletic sort of way; a flat stomach, sculptured bottom, shapely legs and last but not least, the most perfect breasts capped by the most delightful puffy nipples. Her breasts were slightly too large for her slim frame and still nearly as perky as the day they'd first been revealed to me; whatever little sag they'd developed over the last five years simply made her appear more womanly. But between you and me (and her, because she's well aware of it), the piece de resistance was her mons. Swollen to Goldilocks proportions but not beyond, it projected proudly with the graceful curve of the prow of a great ocean liner and a pronounced crease that went half way up its vertical height. It just screamed sexuality.
If I sound a bit obsessed about her body, you're not wrong. It has always drawn me and aroused me; embarrassingly so in public sometimes. Strangely Amy has done nothing but encourage that obsession. When she had to share me on a yacht with up to three other crew women (or screw girls as they came to refer to themselves as), she knew it was her competitive advantage; one she played for all it was worth, and still does to offset any advantage she might feel Liddy has with the extra maturity she brings to our emotional relationship. But beyond that, her former abusive partner made a point of making her feel frumpy and ugly. Until she escaped him, she had not the slightest inkling of her attractiveness, so for Amy feeling truly attractive and beautiful was a completely new and pleasurable experience she chose to immerse herself completely in.
Since finally emotionally casting off the oppressive downbeat burden her former partner had imposed on her and discovering both her inner and physical beauty, she has raised to a fine art dressing herself in a way that attracts the male eye. She delights in basking in the male attention her physical beauty attracts and she relishes her ability to twist any male around her little finger, reduce them to jelly and get them to do whatever she desires. And yet, she does it with such genuine charm, grace and kindness that no -one, not even other women, resent her for it.
And just for me, she pays no less attention to her intimate clothing; those few items that are the last to come off - or not come off, given another of Amy's little peculiarities - before we engage in passionate sex. Her favourites are her bikinis. Still worn by Amy whenever it's warm enough and often as underwear. What all the screw girls called their 'fuck me' bikinis because they were specifically chosen and worn - when we wore anything on the yacht - to keep my testosterone up and me in a near constant state of arousal in the hope that would help me meet their not insubstantial sexual needs.
Much more subtle than mere stringy thongs and postage stamp sized nipple covering, they teased, highlighted and suggested while still being adequate to perform their role as actual clothing. They were and are certainly minimal. Pants that aren't quite wide enough at the front to completely cover her mons, leaving little strips of delightful mons flesh between the leg seam and her thigh and Brazilian cut at the back in a way that highlights her shapely bottom, not just acts as bum crack floss. Tops that show under boob, side boob and cleavage but still support and highlight her breasts and both made of gossamer like material that more than hint at the delights that lay beneath.
Why Ellen's and Issie's husbands are so tolerant of them still wearing their fuck me outfits and flirting with me whenever we get together or they crew on the yacht in a race with me, always puzzled me; and did so even after Ellen admitted her husband knew he got the best sex of the week after a day spent on the yacht with the screw girls, their partners and me and was himself inclined to end up jizzing all over Ellen's fuck me bikinis that night before taking them off her and really getting down to business for another round.
Initially, in her naivety, Amy didn't realise how often she'd attract persistent suitors with her glowing beauty. At first, a little overwhelmed, she'd just retreat into the centre of the group of other screw girls who were and remain her best friends. But even there, she's learnt to charmingly divert the excessive attention; making it clear she's in a committed relationship and completely unavailable while still making the suitor feel special enough to satisfy his ego.
But I've been diverted. Regular readers of the Unexpected Threesome series know all this already. Where were we?
Ah yes; the onset of the Wuhan Virus and Liddy being trapped overseas.
At first Amy enjoyed having me to herself. It wasn't just the additional intimacy of sex when she was the only other person in the house. After all, because Liddy worked night shifts at the hospital where she was a doctor, she often slept in a separate bed and her sexual needs were usually satisfied by two or three times a week. So Amy had plenty of one on one time with me. Surprising though it was to me, part of her enjoyment with Liddy being away was, I'd suppose you'd call it, having sole possession of me while we were out and about and by virtue of that, being able to enjoy more public displays of affection.
As a threesome, we tended to be quite inclusive. If we went shopping, it was often the three of us. And I'd have to admit, in those circumstance, Amy was often assumed by others to be our child - or at least Liddy's child. She had the same figure as Amy (even if Liddy's breasts are surgically enhanced), the same skin and same hair. Even her facial features were similar. It was only their accents - Amy's understated refined British and Liddy's New Yorker - that might have raised doubts. Occasionally we might all hold hands, but Amy wanted to be able to more positively lay claim to me.
Plus she got a chance to be taken out to romantic dinners more often.
But she found there were downsides. Her abusive partner had essentially locked her up and closed down any social avenues for her. Now freed, Amy had refound her extroverted, outgoing nature. Before the virus closedown, she might have been able to organise dates with the rest of the Screw Girls and other of the innumerable friends she'd made without the slightest effort since she'd settled down in Australia. But there was still something missing. She'd actually enjoyed the intimacy of having another women in the house; more so because Liddy too had suffered a period of domestic violence, giving them a natural affiliation. And surprisingly, she started missing the group sex.
Of course, once the virus close down started, she had to work online from home and her world suddenly closed in, then Liddy's absence really made a difference.
On line socialisation is just not the same; especially for someone as tactile as Amy had become.
For Amy, there could only be one outlet. Sex. Once a day quickly became three times a day. She'd sit at her desk in her bikini working and then hunt me out when she took a break for lunch and again as soon as she'd finished work for the day. I couldn't help wonder, as she dealt in her most professional manner with a client just after lunch, whether they could even picture the fact the woman they were talking to had just finished screaming her guts out through multiple orgasms and was sitting at her desk in a tiny bikini whose crotch was now wet with a combination of her juices and the discharge of my cum. Even if she had to do Facetime, she'd just slip a blouse over her bikini top, but the pants were still no less tiny and damp.
Add to that the morning sex which had always been our morning routine and I'd have to say my testosterone level was only just keeping up with Amy's demands. It wasn't that she didn't still have a powerful effect on me when she teased me and flaunted herself at me, but with her working all day, her available tease time to sex time ratio was running a bit close to the mark.
But Amy wasn't the only cause of sexual complications the virus caused.
When Liddy first went away, our daily calls were pretty tame. The sort of 'how are you', 'how's everyone' standard conversation you have when people are away. Of course the birth of the baby gave whole new lines of conversation, but still, they quickly were reduced to the same repetitive banality. I never was very good at these sort of things. Fortunately Amy sat in on the calls with me and she and Liddy could be relied on to establish and long and entertaining conversation and banter to fill in for my inadequacies.
I'd noticed when Liddy had packed to leave, she'd included her old sex toys. The one's she had on her previous yacht before she'd transferred to mine and become one of the Screw Girls. She hadn't had any need for them since, and even less need since we'd been ashore and she'd decided her ambition in life was to work through with me the Kama Sutra and every other sex manual she could find to make up for the fact the missionary position was the only sex she'd had for the first 30 years of her adult life. I will admit, some of the positions were just not suitable for our age, so we skipped them. And let's just say, others weren't our thing.
